


Lonely Boy

by LunacyOfAegis



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Alcohol, Birthday, Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, Love Triangles, M/M, Mild Smut, Pining, Strip Tease, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:01:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunacyOfAegis/pseuds/LunacyOfAegis
Summary: March 9th, 2030. It was that day again.Well, it was just another day, really. The world just keeps turning. And with every passing year birthdays seemed to be a little less exciting, and a little more miserable.This likely wouldn’t be the worst one Adam had ever had. The time Megan let him wait at a restaurant when he had booked a table there for his own birthday dinner,...Wait a minute... No, no, no. Screw that! Who said Adam's birthday has to be a lonely affair? Who said he never made any friends along the way? And maybe even more than friends!Happy Birthday, Adam!--------------------------------------------Title inspired by the Black Keys - Lonely Boy...I'm a lonely boyI'm a lonely boyOh, whoa, ohI got a love that keeps me waitin'...
Relationships: Adam Jensen/Duncan MacReady/Jim Miller
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

_March 9th, 2030_. It was _that day_ again.

Well, it was just another day, really. The world just keeps turning. And with every passing year birthdays seemed to be a little less exciting, and a little more miserable.

This likely wouldn’t be the worst one Adam had ever had. The time Megan let him wait at a restaurant when he had booked a table there for his own birthday dinner, that had been a pretty bad one. It hadn’t quite been the straw that broke the camel’s back, but… It certainly hadn’t helped.

The restaurant manager had been a kindly man, he had tried to console him with words and a bottle of red wine. The waitress with the pretty smile had thought of other things she could do to comfort him. Much to her disappointment, he had gone home with the bottle of wine. By the time Megan had come home from work, he had already been well into a bottle of whisky, because why stop now. Her shallow apologies had been pierced by her accusing stare. Why hadn’t he called? Why did he even have to? He had passed out on the couch, the open bottle in hand.

And nowadays? Was this even the day he had been born? Or just the day he had been handed to the Jensens? It had been the start of a new life, all the same.

What did birthday even mean? What did it mean to be born? Did it even count when you had been conceived in vitro and had been cut out of the womb of some surrogate mother after nine months? Did that qualify as birth? He was an impostor. Had been destined to be used and discarded in the name of science. A lab rat, who had escaped and posed as man.

There were so many questions unanswered, truths unspoken. Things he would want to ask Margie and Arthur Jensen if he still could. He was angry about the fact that they had kept so much from him, lied about so many things. That they had taken their secrets to the grave and had forever denied him the truth. He should be grateful to them.

His parents were long gone. So long, it felt like another life. And it was a good thing that they had not had to witness how the past, that they had tried to save him from, had caught up with him. And Megan was gone as well. Alive after all, but he was dead to her.

In his new life, Adam was still an impostor. A man who always played both sides and belonged on neither. He kept to himself. Always had. It was alright. Not that he didn’t like people. Not that he didn’t care for them. No, it was just easier when you cared too much.

He expected nothing from the people around him. And it was exactly what he got. Not that he had thought a choir of agents would sing Happy Birthday for him when he came into the office. Thank god, no.

But still… Not even Aria. He passed by her desk at the shooting range, casually. It was stupid. Why would she even know. And if Mac had made some bad joke about him growing old and rusty and falling to pieces, he would not have been surprised at all. The man never missed a chance at a jab, except today.

Upstairs he stopped by the windows of Jim’s… Director Miller’s office. He was inside, bent over the desk he was chained to for far too much time. He looked tired. Jim always did. And the harsh light of the bunker made him look so much older, older than he was. Older than he looked out in the sun. He could walk in under some pretense. No. He walked on by. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself.

It was a slow day, no explosions anywhere. Not that he had a desire for bloodshed on this particular day, but it would have been better to have something to keep him busy.

The way home felt like a road to nowhere. He walked along the Vltava for a while, looked out over the water and wondered what was beneath. Let smoke swirl away into the air and ashes fall on the ground. He had time. It was Friday but he did not have anything planned. Maybe he’d watch an old baseball game and try to catch up on sleep. He always got precious little of that.

The cops harassed him at the checkpoints like any other day. The Aug district was just as dirty and depressing, the building he lived in just as derelict as on any other day.

But still, the day seemed to hold some surprises. Like the bottle sitting in front of his apartment door. A bottle of champagne, a rather expensive one. And pinned under it was a sealed letter. Now who would send a gift like that? It wasn’t so hard to guess. Someone he could do without. He placed the bottle on the kitchen counter. Surprises like that made him a little paranoid, but curiosity still nagged at him. He finally caved and opened the letter. With a kitchen knife, an arm blade would have been overkill. There was a rather tasteful birthday card which simply read:

_Happy Birthday!_

_P.S. Feel free to visit me at the casino some time._

Well, that certainly was the last person in the whole city from whom he had wanted a birthday gift. Was the champagne poisoned? No, that wouldn’t be Otar’s style. But how did he even know? Maybe he should visit the casino and find out. But not today. If nothing else, he could at least have some peace and quiet.

Oh, and he had an e-mail in his inbox. Might as well check that too.

_Happy Birthday, Spyboy!_

_How are you? I have a new job flying suits for Santeau. Sarif recommended me. It’s kind of boring but I fly between the US and Europe a lot and the job takes me to Vienna about every two weeks. Maybe you could come down there to meet me. I would love to see you again._

_Flygirl_

He stared at the mail for a few minutes. It was a lot more welcome than a gift from a mob boss. Malik was a friend from a different time in his life. It had always been easier for him to move on if he made a clean cut. But she was one of the few people who had always had his back and who had always stayed a friend, even at a time when he had barely been able to recognize himself. And she was right, wasn’t she? Even Alex had told him that he needed to come up for air. A few days of leave in a nicer place than Prague would be good for him. And he did miss her. He was so good at pushing feelings like that away, he did it all the time. Only sometimes they came right back at him when he expected it the least. Maybe he would go to meet her.

For now, he took a shower. It never took him long now, there was so little skin to clean. His hair was still wet when he made himself comfortable on the couch, in his hand a book that he had dug out of one of the cardboard boxes that contained the remains of his previous life. A bowl of Crunchy Pirate was waiting for him on the coffee table. And maybe a glass of scotch, later. This was as close as he could get to being happy on a day like this.

It didn’t last though. He had only just eaten the last spoon full of cereal and was maybe twenty pages into his book when his Infolink beeped. Alexandra Vega. He half expected to hear birthday wishes but no, it seemed to be a business call.

_“Hey, Adam. Can we meet? There is something I need to show you.”_

_“Yeah, sure. What is it?”_

_“Meet me at the Limb Clinic. I’ll explain to you when you get there.”_

He sighed. So much for peace and quiet and reading a book and getting some sleep. It was time to get dressed again. He slipped into his old coat. It came with memories of better days, but it was also a familiar and comforting weight. 

Three checkpoints, three times being harassed and showing his papers later, he was almost at the Limb Clinic when Vega called his Infolink again.

_“Sorry Adam, I won’t make it to the Limb Clinic. Something has come up.”_

_“What’s going on? Do you need help?”_

_“No, I’m ok. Sorry again, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”_

What the hell was going on here? Something wasn’t right. He tried calling Vega again, but she wouldn’t pick up. This wasn’t like her at all. Where was she even? Vega could take care of herself, right? But something had to be wrong. With no idea where to look for her, he had no choice but to head back home.

While he waited on the platform in the subway station, in the Naturals section, they could glare at him all they liked, he found a copy of the latest issue of Samizdat. The editors had relocated to Paris, but it seemed they had also increased their reach. He just browsed the headlines, too distracted by Vega’s behavior to really read any of the articles. On the last page his eyes fell on a small note at the bottom of the page and his eyebrows shot up over the shades.

_Happy Birthday to our honorary member, Special K!_

_Special K?_ Did they mean… He was still thinking about that strange call and who Special K might be when he came back to the Zelen apartments. On the stairs up to his floor something small and bright caught his eye. There was so much trash around the place, it shouldn’t even have stood out. But he still picked it up. It was a Chicken Foot bonus card, fully stamped. A place like that really had bonus cards? The only guy he knew who could ever fill a Chicken Foot bonus card was Koller. He would even order extra feet. Although he had to admit that the items on the menu that did not actually contain chicken feet or other weird animal parts were pretty good for a Chinese restaurant in the Aug district. He pocketed the card and walked up the last flight of stairs.

His fingers stopped just short of the code panel. The feeling of wrongness was back. No signs that the lock had been tampered with. Not that it meant anything, with enough skill the keypad could be manipulated without leaving a trace, he knew all about that. And the second call from Vega had been strange. It never hurt to be careful, not in the world he lived in.

SmartVision had its merits in a situation like this. Ha. Three people inside. One of the outlines was Vega. He had been right. Had she been taken as hostage and used to lay an ambush for him? But why were the other two people not armed? And one of them was busy in the kitchen and two of them were sitting on the couch. And the guy in the kitchen looked familiar too. Wait, those hands, was that…

Adam shook his head. No, it couldn’t be. Time to flush out the three stooges. He let the blade slide out of his right arm and engaged his leg silencers. Then he opened the door just wide enough and slipped quietly into the small hallway. He pressed himself to the wall that separated the hallway from the kitchen and cloaked to peek around the corner. As soon as he had opened the door the three figures had gone into hiding. But there was no hiding from him. He stepped out into the living room, blade still drawn and held out in front of him.

“Show yourselves. I know you are here.”

“Happy Birthday, Adam!” The three stooges popped out from behind the sofa. They were Vega, Koller and, to his surprise, Shadowchild.

Adam let out the breath he had been holding and shook his head in disbelief. The blade snapped back into his arm.

“Are you enjoying yourselves breaking into my apartment? You could have told me when you called, you know!”

Vega grinned at him. “Oh, come on Adam. We both know you would have said no if I had told you! This is a surprise party!”

Shadowchild gave him an amused look. “Like you never broke into anyone’s apartment. And you really are always that serious. You know, you should learn to have some fun sometimes. Like now.”

Adam snorted. “Yeah. I wonder how much fun you would be having if you had really surprised me, and I would have stabbed all of you.”

“Relax, Jensen!” It was the same tone Koller had when Adam didn’t want to sit in his chair. “I got us takeout from the Chicken Foot. And the girls brought prosecco. Come on, sit down. I already got the plates and everything.”

Adam scowled. “I never asked for this.”

But he got it anyways. Resistance was futile. The girls dragged him to the couch and pushed a glass of prosecco into his hand. Before Vega could raise her glass to make a toast his Infolink came to life again.

MacReady? What did he want?

_“Hey Jensen, you got any plans for today?”_

_“Not really, but –”_

_“Great. Me and Aria will be there in five minutes.”_

_“Wait, what –”_

MacReady had already ended the call. Adam was starting to get a surreal feeling, like he was somehow floating above his body and was watching events out of his control unravel.

Vega gave him a curious look. “Who was that?”

“MacReady. My… coworker. From, you know, my day job. With Interpol. He said he will be here in five minutes and he is bringing Aria along. This is going to be a great party when my other guests are my Collective contact, a Ripper and a guy who runs an illegal Aug clinic.”

Koller waved his hands in protest. “Hey. I am a bookstore owner! Totally legal! Don’t worry. And I brought enough feet for everyone!”

Adam groaned. Then he got up to put the bottle of champagne that Otar had sent him in the freezer. Only the best for his guests. If it really was poisoned, he might as well make the most of it and get them all.

By the time he closed the freezer he already heard MacReady knocking on his door. The moment when he opened it was every bit as awkward as he had imagined it, but MacReady was seemingly unfazed. He wouldn’t know awkward if it hit him in the face.

“You could have told me you already have guests. So, are you going to let us in or what?”

“I tried to tell you—”

There was no point, MacReady already shouldered past the awkwardness and into the hallway.

Adam turned to Aria. She was still standing outside with a huge casserole dish in her hands.

“Hey Adam. I’m sorry if this is not a good moment. We can leave if…”

Adam had already resigned himself to his fate and Aria was the last person whom he wanted to feel bad for trying to be kind. “No, it’s fine. Why don’t you come in.” He took the casserole out of her hands so she could take off her coat.

“That’s lasagna. Italian family recipe from my grandma. I hope you like it.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll take anything without feet.” Aria gave him a puzzled look, but he didn’t want to explain. “Shad… Uhm, Bianca might like it, she’s Italian too.”

Aria gave him another puzzled look at the name. He had almost forgotten Shadowchild’s real name. Hopefully, this even was the one she was still using. Off to a great start.

In the kitchen MacReady was already shaking Koller’s hand, but rather gingerly. The alien-looking one that had only two fingers and could be equipped with exchangeable tools. Adam smirked behind his back, satisfied that someone had managed to make the man uncomfortable after all.

He put the casserole down on the kitchen counter. The food did give Aria and Shadowchild something to connect over, especially after they had both taken a look at the Chicken Foot takeout. They grabbed some plates together and started loading them with very generous cubes of lasagna.

Mac turned his attention back to Adam and for a few seconds he looked a little confused and stared at him. Was there something stuck to his face? Oh. No. There was something not on his face, he wasn’t wearing the shades at home. Had Mac ever seen him without them? Maybe only in the picture in his file? Was Mac freaked out be his eyes? He didn’t look like it, more like he thought they were interesting.

“I have a gift for you.” Mac had been holding a small bag all the time. He fished out a bottle and held it out in front of Adam with a proud smile. It was a bottle of scotch. “This is the good stuff, from back home. A friend of mine owns a small distillery in Speyside.”

Adam took the bottle carefully. He turned it in his hands and looked at the label. This was somehow even more unexpected than the bottle of champagne from Otar. But then it also was not. Good scotch was one of the few things they could agree on.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. I really do.” That was maybe the first time he had thanked Macready for anything. It felt strange when they were not at each other’s throats. Adam let a tiny smile slip through the cracks before he even realized he was doing it. It was the look on Mac’s face that made him notice it, the same look he had had before. Suddenly he felt the need to say something before the moment turned awkward again. “Maybe we should open it, I could use a drink.” Or five.

Mac’s reply took him by surprise. “Yeah. But wait until Jim is here.”

“What?” Adam felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under his feet.

“Didn’t I tell you? Jim is coming too. He just said he had to pick something up before.”

That strange feeling as if he was floating above his own head while events spiraled out of control was back for a moment. He very much wanted to run away and hide somewhere. But where should he run to? Everyone had already invaded his only hiding place. There wasn’t even an air vent he could crawl into. Adam swallowed hard. His ears suddenly felt like they were burning. MacReady was still looking at him and once again he would have liked to know what he was thinking. Mac was an ass, but sometimes, he really wasn’t.

This time he was saved by Koller who shoved a plate heaped with Chicken Foot Extra Spicy Special into Mac’s hands. Adam had tried it one time and had given up after a few bites. Somehow it didn’t even surprise him when he watched Mac dig in and gnaw on a chicken bone. His tolerance for hot food had to be something else. Adam wanted to retreat to the relative safety of Alex’ company. So far, she had been keeping to herself at the far end of the couch, sipping on her glass of prosecco. Before he had a chance to sit down next to her someone was knocking on the door again. That had to be Jim.

Adam felt like he would make a total idiot of himself when he went to open the door. What he didn’t expect was that Jim looked like he was feeling the exact same way when he was standing there with a large and relatively flat cardboard box held out in front of him. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Adam realized he was blocking the door, like a total idiot, and moved to let Jim in. The tiny hallway suddenly felt even smaller when Jim brushed past him.

Jim resolved the situation with the same method that he applied to most problems, he just took charge and bossed someone around, Adam in this case. “Don’t just stand there, Jensen. Take that off my hands. And don’t drop it.”

That particular tone had never been one that Adam responded well to, but right now he was just relieved and more than willing to take the mystery box out of Jim’s hands. It gave him the opportunity to walk past Jim into the kitchen. Now he was curious what the heavy, flat box was.

Jim had quietly followed him into the kitchen. His tone was gentler now. “Go on, look inside. You probably had enough surprises for one day already.”

Adam carefully opened the top of the cardboard box. It was a chocolate-covered birthday cake. He hadn’t had one in years. Had Megan ever thought of getting him one? When he looked back at Jim, he still didn’t know what to say. The lump in his throat didn’t make it easier. All he managed was a small “Thanks, Jim.”

It seemed to be enough for Jim, he looked relieved and happy. “I thought you might have a sweet tooth, with all those cereal boxes that have invaded the office cafeteria since you arrived. And the amount of sugar you put in your coffee. But I spared you the candles. At my advanced age I can tell you they only get more obnoxious every year.”

There was a tiny s grin spreading on Adam’s face, he just couldn’t help it. “Didn’t think you would notice my sugar habit.”

Jim looked away uncomfortably like he had just been found out. It made Adam regret his words. He tried to be a good host and offered Jim some food and a glass of prosecco. Jim made the wise choice and went with the lasagna. As soon as he approached the casserole Aria seemed to pop out of nowhere to heap a generous helping onto a plate for him. Jim went to find a place to sit down and eat.

In a casual setting like this, he somehow stood out, an inch taller than Adam and in his grey office suit and a shirt. He looked so put together, almost a little too much, too stiff, and somewhat out of place. But it was also hard to miss how good he looked, how much younger his face was in the soft and dim light of Adam’s living room.

Jim ended up sitting down on the couch next to Vega, of all people. They appeared to be making polite conversation, with Alex talking more than he would have expected. Adam just hoped she would stick to her cover story and wouldn’t let anything slip about her past as a pilot for Belltower. Belltower and its involvement in the Australian Civil War were a touchy subject for Australians like Jim, no matter if they were from the north or the south. Or even worse, they could get along too well, and Jim might end up offering her a job as a pilot for TF29. They even needed one after Jim had fired Chikane. He’d probably die inside if that happened. Vega was still talking, and Adam noticed that Jim was watching her intently. Old Eagle-Eyes, they had called him. His large pale-blue eyes maybe couldn’t see through walls, but Adam knew they could see through a lot.

Even though Adam was an unwilling host, he was glad that it gave him something to do, so he busied himself with finding another stack of plates and forks and a knife to cut the cake. Then he remembered the champagne in the freezer, so he took it out and went looking for more glasses. When they finally got to cutting the cake, everyone was gathered around the coffee table. Adam still hoped they would not start singing Happy Birthday for him. MacReady commandeered the bottle of champagne and was about to pop it open when the smart home system announced a call.

_“Incoming Vidcall from – David Sarif”_

Adam froze. Everyone in the room fell silent, waiting for him to take the call. The TV was still showing the incoming call, but all Adam wanted to do right now was disappear. He even could. Everyone was still looking at him. It had only been seconds, but it felt like hours.

Before he could seriously consider activating his cloaking aug Koller broke the silence. “Is that really David Sarif? Aren’t you going to take his call, man? I’ve wanted to talk to him, like forever!”

Adam shuddered at the thought of getting the two greatest aug enthusiasts he had ever known together. Koller looked at him like a wide-eyed child on Christmas. On the other hand, that might solve his Sarif problem right now. Against his better judgement, he decided to take the call.

Sarif appeared on the oversized TV screen. _“Adaaam! I almost thought you weren’t going to take my call. But I see you have a few friends coming over for your birthday. It’s good that you are getting out of your shell a little more, son!”_

All Adam wanted at that moment was to crawl into a hole and die. Vega was snickering at the thought of him getting out of his shell when they had practically had to pry him out of it. Aria looked at him with an expression of pity on her face. Koller was giddily bouncing up and down next to the screen.

MacReady was a little confused at first, then he was grinning. That was never a good sign. “Oh, I didn’t know you were related.”

Adam bristled. “Most certainly not,” he growled.

It was no use, Mac already was on a roll. He popped the champagne cork. “We were just about to raise a toast. Maybe you should do the honors, Mr. Sarif.”

Sarif looked positively delighted at the prospect. _“But of course, just let me get a glass!”_

He vanished from sight for a minute and Adam was about to strangle Mac who had started filling glasses. Movement at the edge of his vision distracted him for a moment. Shadowchild had her phone out and was typing on it. When she noticed Adam looking at her, she just gave him a little wink and put the phone away. Then it was too late to strangle Mac, Sarif was already back and getting ready to fire off his speech.

Just when Sarif was drawing a deep breath and Adam was about to interrupt him before things could get any worse, the smart home system started playing Happy Birthday. The song was blaring from the speakers at a volume that made any kind of conversation impossible for a minute or two. Adam looked at Shadowchild with raised eyebrows and a tiny smirk. She grinned but shook her head and raised her hands in a “it wasn’t me”-gesture.

When the song was finally over it was followed by a very familiar voice. A very snarky, nasal, and above all, annoying voice.

_“Happy Birthday to you, Jensen! Congratulations on being another year closer to death!”_

Adam had maybe never been so happy to hear the voice of Francis Wendell Pritchard. The timing had been too perfect, he looked at Shadowchild again and she just grinned back at him.

The only other person who recognized the voice was Sarif, of course. He looked amused but it didn’t stop him from making a second attempt to make a speech. Adam had gotten his hopes up too soon. When Sarif wanted something, he would not let anything deter him so easily.

But before he could speak up again, or anyone else got a chance to say something, it was Jim Miller who simply seized the moment and stepped forward to raise his glass to Adam.

“Happy Birthday, Adam. Here’s to you.”

Their glasses met at the same time as their eyes. If Adam hadn’t wanted to kiss him before, he sure did now. But the moment passed, and then everyone was milling around, and they started congratulating him and they were finally drinking that champagne. And that was it, no more speeches.

When Adam turned back to Sarif on the TV screen. Sarif looked quite disappointed at having missed his chance and a little… jealous? He decided he would accept that as his birthday gift from Sarif. Then he remembered that he had a consolation prize for him and pulled Koller in front of the screen.

“Vaclav would like to meet you. He is a big fan of yours.” That was really all he needed to say. Koller exploded in an outburst of excitement and started talking so fast that he could barely keep up. It didn’t take long at all for that conversation to turn into unintelligible technical gibberish for anyone who was not an expert in human augmentation, but the two of them seemed to understand each other perfectly.

It was slowly getting late. After Koller and Sarif had finally ended the vidcall, not without exchanging numbers of course, Koller was the first to excuse himself. He claimed that he was expecting a “book delivery” early in the morning. Shadowchild left together with him. Aria and Vega were still chatting and even though Adam was wondering what about, he didn’t want to listen in on them. That left him in the company of Mac and Jim. Jim had been very quiet all evening and somehow Adam hadn’t really gotten around to talking to him. But all evening he had stolen little glances at him and every time he looked a little needle pierced his heart. There was something so thoughtful and subdued about Jim today and he wondered why.

Mac was exactly the opposite. He had already had quite a few drinks and was getting louder and more talkative with every glass he downed. Who would have thought he would get tipsy so quickly? Somehow Adam’s own mood hadn’t really lightened. He had arranged himself with the home invasion taking place and he wasn’t unhappy or ungrateful, not by any means. It was just very unexpected to have everyone here because of him.

Now MacReady wasn’t exactly sensitive when it came to other people’s feelings, but even he could pick up that there was something wrong here. He just blamed it on Adam’s usual behavior as a grumpy recluse and to him the solution was obvious. “You know, Jensen, you really just can’t let go. Do you know what we are going to do with you?”

“No. Enlighten me, MacReady.”

Mac gave him his brightest Glasgow smile. “We are going to get you so shitfaced, you won’t even remember your maiden name tomorrow.”

“Right. Looks like you are getting a head start on me.” Adam wondered if Mac even knew that the energy converter that powered his augs filtered the alcohol out of his bloodstream and if he had any idea at all how much alcohol it actually took to get him truly drunk. Mac would be throwing up a long time before him. Now that was a thought. He did deserve it after that business with Sarif earlier. Maybe this would be fun after all. “But if you insist, let me get that bottle of scotch you brought.”

Jim didn’t look so impressed with the idea. That was when Mac honed in on him. “Same goes for you and that stiff suit, Jim.”

For a split second, Jim looked annoyed, but then his eyes narrowed, and he smirked at Mac. “Is that so? Because I seem to remember the last time you had a few drinks too many. It certainly wasn’t me who was throwing up over the railing of that bridge on the way home.”

Adam came back with glasses and offered the girls some of the scotch, but they declined. Both Aria and Vega had come to the same conclusion, although for very different reasons – getting piss drunk with McReady and Miller would be a really bad idea for both of them, to say the least. They decided to leave together, and Adam went to see them to the door. When he watched Aria and Alex walk down the stairs side by side, he was relieved, things had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. At least his cover wasn’t completely blown. And maybe he should thank them, the next time he saw them.

Now it was just the three of them. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Aria and Vega were a lot smarter than he was. Get plastered with both of your superiors, what could possibly go wrong? But it hadn’t been his idea, right? And Jim could have said no and would have dragged MacReady out the door with him. Only, he hadn’t. He didn’t seem eager to go home at all. Better get drunk real fast because things don’t get less strange by thinking about them.

The scotch really was good. Smooth and mellow with a gentle honeyed sweetness and only the slightest hint of peat smoke. Far too good to waste it on getting drunk. But it went down too easily. For a while they were just sitting there, silently staring into their glasses of amber liquid, savoring the taste, feeling it burn down their throats and spreading warmth in their stomachs. They made their space there on Adam’s couch and the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. None of them wanted to break it and they filled their glasses again. The air of Adam’s dimly lit apartment seemed to soften around them. It was a space that Adam wouldn’t ever share, only now he did. The couch was big, that gigantic baroque abomination upholstered in soft black leather. Now it seemed to grow smaller with each drop consumed, like they were somehow moving closer to each other without moving at all.

It was too much, after a while. Adam shifted forward and the clink of his glass on the table sounded far too loud. MacReady seemed to think the same. He put his glass next to Adam’s and stood up. The slightest bit unsteady, Adam noticed.

His voice was still as clear and biting as ever though. “Alright, where do we go now? Because if we stay in this cave, we are all going to fall asleep before we are even close to drunk.”

Adam thought about it for a moment. The Aug district didn’t have a lot to offer but most of the bars in town outside the district wouldn’t let him in. Except for the one place where only the money seemed to count, and it didn’t matter what the hand that held it was made of. The most popular club in town was there and it wasn’t like he had never gone there before, if only for drinks at the bar and because the barkeeper there was one of the few friendly faces he got to see around here. Going there with Mac wouldn’t be so odd, but Jim…

He didn’t count on Jim being the one to say it out loud. “The only place in town that will let Adam in through the door around this time of night is the Red Queen. Come on, let’s go.” It sounded very much like Jim wanted to make a choice before he would start to think about what they were doing.

That seemed like a good idea. They went out the door and Adam decided to put on his old coat again.

The subway ride to the red-light district posed them with a problem – they weren’t supposed to ride in the same train car. It didn’t really matter though, Adam had a stubborn habit to ride in the car for Naturals anyways, simply out of spite. Jim didn’t like it when he did it, he chewed Adam out when he received complaints from state police. If it were up to him, Adam and everyone else should have the right to ride whatever train car they pleased, but he was worried that Adam would get himself arrested someday. The cops at the station exit spotted them instantly. Two slightly drunk Naturals and an Aug in the middle, who obviously didn’t know where he belonged. They would put him in his place. Or so they thought. They gave up after having three Interpol IDs waved under their noses and some furious yelling that made them glad Miller wasn’t _their_ boss.

The Red Queen was a busy place on a Friday night. The lower floor was full. A crowd of guests was gathered around the stage and watched the girls swinging languidly around the poles in time with the low bass as the late show was in full swing. The working girls and boys had little trouble finding customers tonight. The air was hot and thick and the red strobe lights made it appear as if the girls moved in slow motion, frame by frame. Mac had been the first through the door and Adam and Jim followed behind him as he shouldered through the crowd on the way to the bar without bothering with excuses. It was so loud tonight, they had to shout if they wanted to order a round of drinks.

When the barkeeper finally came over to them Mac and Jim were surprised that she obviously knew Adam. She would of course always recognize _“Mr. Tall, Dark and Augmented”_. That nickname raised some eyebrows. Now she was surprised that he had brought company. Of course, Mac had to announce that it was his birthday party and that the official goal was to get Adam to throw up before dawn. The look on the bar keepers face could be roughly translated into “challenge accepted” and when she came back with their drinks, they got a round of oversized Long Island Iced Teas, complete with fruit and colorful decoration. First round on the house, of course. Halfway through the drink Adam started to doubt they would need a second round. What had she put in there? Even with his augs filtering the alcohol he was starting to feel it now.

It was hot, they dropped off their coats and mingled with the crowd to watch the show. All tables were full, but conversation was impossible anyways. The show wasn’t bad at all. Two girls were still dancing on their poles, but the Red Queen catered to all audiences and the center of the stage was taken up by two male strippers. A crowd of tipsy girls, that looked suspiciously like an entire bachelorette party, was going crazy over them on the other side of the room. Adam had thought guys could be dirty, but he had never seen anything like them. He made sure to stay at a safe distance from them when he got a second round of cocktails. At the bar he tried to shout his order over the counter, but the barkeeper just waved and laughed and handed him another round of cocktails. The first sip through a pink straw was all sugary sweetness but the drink was even harder than the first. Now his health system was starting to struggle a bit to keep up.

He watched Mac drink it down way too fast and near the bottom of the glass he seemed to start to sway a bit and his eyes were glazed. The show was over now, and the crowd was starting to dance. They were pushed up against the stage by the moving bodies and Mac looked like he was about to join. Adam was a little surprised, he hadn’t expected him to be such a lightweight, or a dancer. Jim was taking it a bit more slowly and while his eyes were as clear as ever, more about him had come loose than just the collar of his shirt. It didn’t look bad on him, oh no, not at all. If a few rounds of cocktails were what it took to soften his stiff posture and open up his face like that, well maybe then Mac’s idea hadn’t been so bad after all. Adam almost wished he was a little more drunk himself, then he might have had more courage.

This time it was Mac who went for another round of drinks and Jim disappeared into the crowd, probably looking for the restroom. Adam was left alone for the moment. New dancers had stepped up on the stage behind him. The dancing crowd pushed and shoved against him and he didn’t want to be dragged along. It was getting on his nerves. The only way to avoid it was to retreat to the stage and lean against it with his back. Maybe it would be quieter upstairs, but he doubted it.

Adam didn’t stay alone for long. Two men made their way through the crowd in his direction. Probably just looking for a good place to watch the strippers behind him. No. They were actually coming towards him. By the time he started to move away it was too late, and they crowded him against the low stage. He just shook his head and raised a hand. Sorry, not interested. They did not seem to get the message.

Too drunk or too stupid or just assholes, it was all the same. One of the men was asking him something and over the music he only understood a few words. “…fuck you…” and “…how much, both of us…”. It was more than enough to understand what they wanted.

“I don’t work here.” Assholes. When he pushed away from the men, he didn’t count on them to insist and shove him back against the stage hard enough that it hurt when his back hit the edge. The alcohol didn’t even slow him down that much, it was more the sheer surprise about what was happening. One of the men grabbed him by the throat while the other one slipped his hand under his shirt and into the waistband of his jeans. They were close enough for him to understand them quite clearly now. “What is it, you little Aug cunt? Playing hard to get? You think your plastic ass is too good for us, huh?”

Assholes and stupid then. He felt his teeth grind on each other. His hard, unyielding fingers closed around a wrist made of flesh and bone and pulled the hand out of his clothes. The man looked surprised, right before his face turned into a grimace of pain. Adam’s grip was strong enough to bend metal and he was itching to just snap the man’s wrist. It would take no effort at all. The problem was, if you got in a fight with two Naturals as an Aug in Prague, you were always the one who got to take the blame. No matter how justified it was, even in self-defense, he knew exactly who would get arrested. All he could do was to get away without escalating things further, so he pushed the man back and let go of his hand. Hopefully they would get the message.

No, of course, they didn’t. The man, who was still holding him by the throat with one hand, pulled back his arm. Adam saw it coming. It was slow. He didn’t even bother to try to evade when the man’s fist met his face. The blow hardly moved his head at all, but Adam could feel the bones in the soft organic hand break on the titanium under his skin. He might as well have slammed his fist into a brick wall. The man let go of him with a pained cry to clutch his hand and Adam couldn’t help himself when he sneered at the pitiful attempt to hurt him. His lips twisted into a hard-mouthed smirk. “You hit like a little Natch.”

It would still be better to get out of here before there was even more trouble. Still not worth it. There was the exit. Ah, shit. They had some more friends with them. Four of them. And the guy who had just broken his own hand pulled a knife. Yeah, good luck with that. It still irritated him. Well, fuck it. If he was getting arrested for assault and battery tonight, he might as well make it count and break every single bone in their bodies. He’d start with the other hand of the little shit who had pulled the knife on him. 

“Hey, cunt!”

The man with the knife looked towards the voice. A beer bottle came flying right at him. It smashed into his face and exploded into sharp shards of glass. Beer and blood were dripping off his head. Adam turned around to see where it had come from. Mac was standing there with two more bottles of beer in his hands. There was a glint in his eyes and a mad grin on his face, that made the Glasgow smile on his cheek stand out even more.

“Come here, you fucking asshole.”

Jim’s voice was coming from his left. Adam turned back just in time to see Jim grab the other guy by the back of his neck and pull him in. He put the brute force of his considerable weight behind the blow. When his elbow met the man’s face halfway, it was as if his head was caught between hammer and anvil. The blow struck hard enough to splinter bones and knock out teeth and sent him crashing to the floor like a ragdoll. A stream of blood was spurting from his nose and he was moaning through his broken teeth.

Adam stared at them in disbelief. He wasn’t alone here. He was so used to being on his own and taking care of himself, while all of this had played out, he had never, not for one second, thought that anyone would stand by him. It had never occurred to him that they would be there for him like that. Not even when they had been together all night.

The other men who were coming towards them suddenly didn’t look so eager anymore. They were saved from making a choice between fighting or to leaving it be, when the lights went on and the music was turned off. The strippers had left the stage when the fight had started, and in the meantime, someone had informed management.

Management arrived in the form of a slender, middle-aged woman in an elegant pant suit who walked down the stairs from the upper floor. The hair above her sharp face was cropped short and her eyes were as hard as diamonds. Masa Kadlek was a brothel owner, but above all, she was a businesswoman. The four men who surrounded her didn’t look like businessmen at all, they looked every bit like the mob enforcers they were. Not your regular bouncers, Adam didn’t need his augmented vision to know they were packing machine pistols under their jackets. Masa Kadlek waited at the bottom of the stairs with two of the men flanking her while the other two cleared a way through the crowd for her.

When she walked up to Adam and regarded him with a stern look, he decided not to push his luck with her, it wasn’t worth it. “I am sorry Mrs. Kadlek. There has been a misunderstanding.”

Masa Kadlek raised her hand to silence him. “Yes, I heard about that. There is no need to apologize, Mr. Jensen. Even if you would be working for me, this would be inacceptable. I would not tolerate this kind of behavior towards my employees, augmented or not. Also, I should thank you for showing so much restraint and not turning my club into a slaughterhouse.” She turned around before he could say anything and gestured to one of her men. “Dimitri, take out the trash.”

Her guards rounded up the men who were dumb enough to protest when they were told to leave, because they didn’t get why anyone would make such a fuss about an Aug. Adam knew that they wouldn’t be having a good night, because “take out the trash” in Divali meant about as much as “take them to a back alley and beat the shit out of them”. That gave him no satisfaction though. Now that the ugly scene was over, he felt far too sober again and it was like a leaden weight was sinking down onto his shoulders. Why should the world be any different for him, if only just for one night?

But before the feeling could really settle in, he felt an arm around his waist and Mac was grinning up at him. “We really can’t leave you alone, Jensen, not even for a second.”

Adam huffed, but Mac was undeterred. He leaned in closer and gave Adam a little peck on the jaw. Adam’s eyes widened in surprise. Then Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Mac put his other arm around Jim’s waist and pulled them all together.

Jim kissed Adam on the cheek, gently and dangerously close to his mouth. His thumb brushed softly over Adam’s face where the blow had struck him. “Are you okay, Adam?”

No, no he wasn’t. And when had been the last time anyone had even bothered to ask him that? He didn’t want to lie, so he just closed his eyes and shook his head.

Then the music came back on and the girls climbed back up on the stage. Mac and Jim kept their arms wrapped around him and pulled him back to the bar.

He offered no resistance and let them pull him towards the bar and push him against the counter. It should have been strange, awkward even, but he felt comfortable there between them. They were close enough that he could smell them, like Old English Leather and Australian sandalwood. They were there, solid and real and comforting. This time the touch wasn’t unwelcome, not at all. His eyes closed and he leaned into it, as if he bared his soft underside to them. He just wanted more.

A hand slipped under his shirt again, dry and warm and not rough at all. He had never thought Mac would be that gentle, that his fingers would trace little circles on his skin. Jim leaned in to caress his neck, a thumb stroked his jaw, his throat. Mac’s lips brushed against his own, gently, as if testing the waters. Adam opened his mouth, and a needy sound escaped him at the first touch of tongue against his own. Then a firm hand turned his head and Jim’s mouth kissed him harder, deeper, all hesitation he had ever felt now gone.

It felt like a long time until he opened his eyes again, even if it was not. He blinked in surprise at the two women smiling at them from behind the bar. Masa Kadlek was standing next to the barkeeper. Her smile made it almost believable that she meant it, when she said she was running a family business.

“I was told that this is a special day. That means I can not let you leave my establishment with such an unsatisfying experience, now can I? Normally in such a case I would offer you a private room and company for the night, but I can see you already have all the company you could wish for. And very fine company it is.”

Adam felt a little flush creep up on his cheeks. Her amused look made them realize that she most likely knew very well who all three of them were. It was a very uncomfortable thought. Masa Kadlek seemed to know what they were thinking. “Do not worry, gentlemen. A business like this is built upon the foundation of discretion.”

Jim cleared his throat. “That is very much appreciated, Mrs. Kadlek.”

“Good, good. Then let me offer a toast.” She turned to the barkeeper and said something in Czech that Adam didn’t understand.

The barkeeper brought out an elegant bottle filled with deep green liquid. She placed four glasses on the counter, each with a filigree spoon and a piece of sugar over it. Then, slowly and carefully, she let icy water drip onto the sugar cube, dissolving it into the glass and turning the verdant liquid into pale milky green.

They raised their glasses and Masa Kadlek spoke a toast. At the first sip he took, he could tell it was the real thing, not the weak mockery of Absinthe sold to the masses of tourists. Then things got a little fuzzy as the Green Fairy lifted him up and carried him away.

The returned into the pulsing crowd, still thick that late during the night. Mac wanted to dance and pulled on his hands and Jim was close behind, holding on to his hips as if for dear life. The bass and the beat pulled them in, even Jim. Adam was moved by it, swallowed up by it with a grin.

Laughter sounded around them, light and giggly and shrill. Wolf-whistles and catcalls called to him. They wanted to see him.

Strip!

Oh, no way, no. He had to get away but had nowhere to go! Laughing faces and greedy hands and catcalls everywhere. The only way was up. Up on the stage with two girls with tassels and little else.

Strip!

They didn’t mean him? All of him? All the black and gold?

Strip!

He kicked off his shoes, one by one. The catcalls became a deafening roar, the bachelorettes screamed and cheered him on.

Strip! Strip! Strip!

He walked on the edge of the stage, with rolling hips and on bare augmented heels. Step by step, one leg before the other, gracefully slow.

The crowd roared.

A sharp turn and he faced the crowd. Legs parted, he let himself sink down and down into a split until his hands touched the stage. Fingers hooked into the hem of his shirt and he pulled it up slowly, teasingly, while he rose up again, legs pulled together, as if he was pulled up on a string.

The shirt spun above his head before he sent it flying into the crowd. Bachelorettes jumped and snapped at it like sharks. Hungry for more.

More of him. He wanted to show.

Black fingers closed around the pole. Around and around he went, crossing his legs and weaving under his arm. Away with a spin and back to the edge.

There they were below him, his lovers, looked up, their gaze transfixed, raw with lust, raw desire barely concealed. They wanted to see him. Wanted him.

He was drunk on absinthe and their desire. The fabric slid down over an expanse of black, down his legs. Red light painted shadows on a body cut from marble and blackest onyx. A demon or a demigod, muscles carved from stone.

Silence now, in awe.

He ascended. Icarus. The laws of gravity, not in place for him. He was weightless, hardly felt himself. Spun around, higher up, towards the sun.

His hands barely touched the pole, one outstretched arm enough to maintain his orbit. All the misery of the world, it was far below him, covered by the veil of his elation. He was inhuman and all the same, he was a thing of beauty, and full of grace.

Icarus descended in a blaze of gold on crackling wings made of static.

His bare feet touched the ground and he walked over the edge of the stage. Had he let himself fall or had he tripped, or merely pretended to, he did not know. He fell, like he had fallen so many times in his dreams, but not burning into the sea, but into outstretched arms. He fell into a kiss, hard enough to bruise his lips and long enough to draw all the breath from his lungs. And when it had ended, another one began.

They tumbled outside, laughing, hanging on to each other’s arms, stumbling forward without knowing where to. His bare feet touched the asphalt, shoes nowhere to be found. The chilly air of a night in early spring touched his naked chest, but he barely felt the cold. Someone hung his coat around his shoulders, that old familiar weight.

He stopped them somewhere along the way, dragged them into a dark corner, wanting to be touched and kissed again. Right there he went to his knees, pulling at their clothes until they dragged him up again. Dragged him up one flight of stairs and then some more, into the softness of a bed and into their embrace.

* * *

When Adam’s mind struggled back into half-consciousness, he felt warm and comfortable. Just for once he had had a dream that hadn’t been an utter nightmare. He kept his eyes closed, wishing to fall asleep again so he could linger in that dream for a little longer.

It had been a dream of many hands that touched him, rough, calloused hands that ran over his skin and metal and polymer alike, mapped out every inch of him. He had felt warm mouths that planted gentle kisses and bruising hard ones and lips wrapped around him while clever fingers teased him. He had been trapped with all the skin he could ever want against his own and more, caught between them, tangled up in them and pinned down under them.

Remembering that dream made him feel almost drunk again, and achingly hard. But there was no going back to that more pleasant world, the thirst and the throbbing pain in his skull kept him awake. He let out a little sigh and blinked. Oh. Maybe it hadn’t been a dream after all. While he wasn’t sure yet where he was, he knew exactly who he was looking at. He had seen it in his dream, that deep chest, muscle and scars and pale hair and the light tan that never faded completely because it had been burned into the skin by the harsh Australian sun.

He opened his eyes fully now and saw that Jim had tipped over in his sleep, half on his back and hanging dangerously over the edge of the bed. The blanket had slipped away and looked like it was going to fall to the floor at any second, and Jim along with it. Adam reached out with his hand and tugged on it. His arm slipped around Jim and he reeled him in gently, tried not to wake him, and pulled the blanket up over his back.

Adam’s hand came to rest in the dip at the small of his back and he couldn’t resist and pulled him closer until Jim’s torso was flush against his own and Adam’s face was pressed into his chest. The pale hair there tickled his nose and he nuzzled it, drew in a deep breath. Objectively, they smelled like booze and smoke and sweat and all the things they had been up to last night, but he did not care, under there was the warm scent of skin. Adam inhaled deeply, opened his mouth with a little sigh. He could see the little bites and mouth-shaped bruises he had left on Jim the night before and pressed his lips and tongue into his skin again, wanted to leave some more. His hand pulled his hips closer until he could feel his cock press against his stomach. A little moan escaped his lips when he felt that Jim was hard.

When Jim stirred in his arms, he looked up. Jim was looking back down at him. A flush of shame rose in Adam’s cheeks and up to his ears. He could barely remember right now what they had done last night and how they had ended up like this. Had they really done everything he had dreamt of? What if Jim didn’t remember either? He had been drunk. Now he had to be sober. What if he hadn’t really wanted this and was horrified about whom he had taken to bed? Even worse, _what_ he had taken to bed. Jim would just want him gone now. He looked away and struggled to get up, to get away from him and the painful embarrassment. Away from having to face him in the light of day, with all of Jim’s disgust and contempt and anger plainly there for him to see, destroying any memories of his dreams.

It was harder than it should be, the bed was soft, and he felt like he was tangled up in some warm weight. Before he could get up, he felt Jim’s hand fall on his shoulder. It felt so much heavier than it should. Adam just wanted to get away but for all his strength, he could barely pull away from the touch of that hand. It still felt every bit as good as it had last night, almost painfully so, now that he could never have it again.

Jim had sat up and his hand slid to the back of Adam’s neck and tugged on him to make him look up. Adam swallowed hard and closed his eyes before he gave in to the pull, not wanting to look Jim in the eyes. The thought of what he would see in them was unbearable. There would be no coming back from that. Run, Adam. Run and hide and never look him in the eyes again.

No. No, he wanted to, but it wasn’t right. He swallowed again before he finally turned his head and looked up. His mouth felt even drier than before when it tried to work out a mumbled apology that wouldn’t come out. What was he supposed to say? I am sorry that you had to wake up next to something like me? I am sorry that I touched you with hands like mine? His face twisted into a grimace of pain and shame. He wanted nothing but to get away, but he still forced himself to look at Jim. He at least owed him an apology, however bad it might sound.

Jim looked back at him out of his large, pale-blue eyes that always looked surprisingly kind, no matter how harsh his voice might be. And they were kind even now. Jim didn’t look disgusted at all. The warm light of dawn smoothed out the lines on his face, the harsh set of his jaw and thin line of his lips were replaced by quiet, unbelieving sadness.

He was the first to find his voice, even though he sounded rough. “I… I can understand if you want to leave, I just thought…” His hand jerked away from Adam’s neck like he had touched something hot. Or he suddenly realized he had been touching something disgusting.

Jim sighed and shook his head. He tried to start over. “This was wrong of me. We were drunk… No. That’s no excuse. I had no right to take advantage of you like that.”

Adam just stared at him with his gold-ringed eyes wide open. "What do you mean?"

Now it was Jim’s turn to look away and to struggle for words and courage and his voice suddenly sounded very small. “It’s just that I thought you wanted… That… I hoped you want to stay.”

“You want… You want me to stay?” It came out rough and raw and full of incredulity. Did Jim really mean it that way? In broad daylight, without the fog of intoxication, when all was plain to see? It seemed too good to be true, but before he could bury his hope in doubt again, he surged against Jim’s chest and wrapped his arms around him. So quickly that it took Jim a second to understand. His hands on Adam’s back trembled and he nuzzled his hair with a sigh of relief. Adam buried his face in Jim’s neck. He wanted to stay. Stay right there forever, hold him tight and never let go.

When they settled down again something at his back shifted. No, someone. He realized that the reason why he had felt so warm and comfortable when he had woken up had been Mac curled up against his back, still here as well and sound asleep. Now that he had been disturbed, he had slipped away and rolled on his back and a horrible noise broke the silence. He was snoring like a pig. No, Adam thought, more like a warthog.

He looked up at Jim again and they couldn’t keep in the laughter with all the tension between them suddenly released by that horrifying sound. Still shaking, Jim tried to regain his composure and shushed Adam. He reached out over Adam’s head and there was one final grunt from Mac when Jim gently pinched his nose and tried to turn his head. When he pulled him up against Adam, there was one more grunt and then Mac mumbled something unintelligible, rolled over and wrapped his arm around Adam. His face was pressed against the back of Adam’s neck and his breath tickled on his skin, but the snoring stopped. Adam pulled his arm tighter around his chest and placed a little kiss on his fingers. In a way, all of this was Mac’s fault. They wouldn’t be here without him.

He looked up at Jim again and whispered, “Do you think he is going to stick around when he wakes up?”

Jim looked at Mac thought about it. “I think it depends.” After a little while he looked back at Adam. “Are you going to stick around?”

A stubborn little part of Adam still didn’t believe it. “I would. If you really want me to.”

Jim wrapped his arm around them and bent down to place a kiss on Adam's head. “Yes. I really want you to stay. Both of you.”

So, they stayed together, all three of them. For a long shower and finally throwing up after all. Then for coffee and breakfast to settle their stomachs. For some more sleep and for the things they did in bed after that. For ordering pizza and arguing about which movie to watch. For another night together and for long after that. Maybe even for good.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not supposed to have a second chapter or epilogue, but I was not too happy with the ending anyways and my brain spat out this scene right after I posted the fic, so I wrote it down and thought I might as well tack it on.
> 
> To avoid confusion, the POV switches to Jim. This is what happens after Mac wakes up and it is just a bit of idiotic fluff, nothing more. And if you are reading this, thanks for making it this far!

“Oh, fuck, what did I do last night? Get hit by a fucking truck?” Mac stirred and opened his eyes. “Jim? What the hell?”

Jim sighed. He had dozed off again with Adam cuddled up against his chest and one arm around both him and Mac. “Good morning, Mac.”

“Oh my god… Is that…” Mac propped himself up on one arm and looked down at who he had woken up with. There was absolutely no way to mistake him for anyone else, not even with his face buried in Jim’s chest. “Jensen…” He looked up at Jim. “I didn’t dream this, did I?”

Before Jim could think of anything to say, Mac’s face looked one shade greener, and his mouth turned into a thin line while his eyes suddenly bulged from his skull. He untangled himself from Jensen and rolled out of the bed. Jim watched him half run and half stumble towards the stairs until he rounded the corner. Please let him make it to the bathroom… This was the only downside of this apartment, really, the bathroom was a long way from the bedroom.

The sound coming from the stairs made it clear that Mac had indeed not made it to the bathroom. Oh, please…

Jensen flopped on his back and turned his head towards the stairs. When he looked up at Jim his face was admirably impassive, save for one raised eyebrow. A loud thud, followed by a bang and a string of filthy curses, that gave even Jim pause, came from the bottom of the stairs.

“Did he just slip in his own…” Jensen didn’t even finish the sentence. He jumped out of bed and ran to the stairs. After taking one look at them, he decided not to walk down and jumped over the railing.

Jim followed a little more slowly. He reached the top of the staircase just in time to see Adam land on his feet. He swayed a little (Jim hadn’t been sure he even could with these legs), pressed a hand to his stomach and vanished in the general direction of the bathroom with a bright flash. Jim shook his head. Had he really just… Never mind, as long as he made it to the bathroom. He turned to Mac, who definitely had not made it. He was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his head.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Mac sounded like the thing that had suffered the most was his dignity.

“Good. Because you _are_ going to clean that up.” Jim wanted to go downstairs, but he was not going to wade through puke to get there. Fortunately, the retching sounds from downstairs were followed by the toilet flushing. Well, at least one out of two.

When Adam came back into view with a bucket and a rag, Jim decided that he might as well get back into bed. The bed was a mess. He should be disgusted, really, but didn’t find it in himself to care. It wasn’t likely that he was any less disgusting right now. He slipped back between the still warm bedsheets. The spot where Adam had been sleeping in the middle of the bed was especially warm and Jim made himself comfortable there. He was forty-eight, for Christ’s sake. Up until a few months ago, he had been married with kids. Now he had both his second in command and his best and heavily augmented agent throwing up all over his apartment. After he had just spent a night fucking them both. How the hell had it even come to this? Yeah, right, drinking absinthe at a strip club with a mob boss… He could think about the implications of that when his head did not feel like a watermelon someone had dropped from the sixth floor.

Jim pressed his face into the bedsheets and breathed in. They smelled about as dirty as his memories of the last night. But somehow it was more comforting than disgusting, especially combined with the warmth that another body had left in his bed. He almost drifted back into sleep.

Just when he was about to doze off, voices from the kitchen and the banging of kitchen cabinet doors jerked him back to consciousness. What the hell were they doing? Were they looking for beer to mitigate the hangover? Maybe not such a bad idea…

“What are you doing there, Jensen! That’s not how that works!”

“But that’s how I always do it!”

“No, leave that alone. Just move over! Let me…”

Oh, god… Just like at work… Was it going to be like this around the clock now?

“Alright, then show me, oh almighty coffee god!”

The bubble and hum of the coffee maker could be heard from the kitchen.

“There, see? Not like that shitty americano you drink!”

Jim had had no idea that Mac was good at making coffee, but he was right, Adam was pretty bad at it. If, in some weird alternate universe, they would retire to open a coffee shop, they would have to find some other job for Jensen.

“No, what are you doing MacReady? Stop that!”

“What? Why?”

“He doesn’t take any sugar, just cream. Now you have to make another one.”

Jensen would be responsible for customer service and satisfaction.

The coffee maker was humming and bubbling and hissing again.

“Wait, why do you even know that?”

“He always drinks it like that…”

“Does that mean you tear my head off when I tell you to bring me coffee, but you do it for _him_?”

Jim snickered. You still have a few things to learn, Mac…

The bare heels of augmented feet made a loud clacking sound on the stairs. So, they had cleaned up the mess. Great. The two mugs in Adam’s hands were still steaming but of course he was holding them without being the slightest bit bothered by the heat. Jim took the one with cream. The other mug was black and probably had enough sugar to get the spoon stuck in it. After a careful testing sip, Jim concluded that being served excellent coffee in bed by a beautiful naked man was something he could get used to very quickly.

Adam slipped back under the bedcovers with his own mug in hand and moved as close to Jim as he could get. The entire length of his body was a line of warmth against Jim’s, and he leaned on Jim’s shoulder with a content smile, not the least bit uncomfortable now and seemingly right where he wanted to be. Jim wondered if he would always be so clingy. Probably yes. Not that he would mind, not at all.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Jim kissed him on the cheek and watched how his face practically beamed at that. When had been the last time anyone had gotten to see Adam like that? And when had been the last time anyone had looked at him like that? If ever? Adam snuggled as close as he could without crawling into Jim’s lap.

Mac didn’t seem quite as comfortable when he came into the bedroom with a mug of his own. He had found and put on his boxershorts. With Jim in the middle of the bed and Adam on one side, the only place for him now was on the other side of Jim. But instead of snuggling up he sat down a little hesitantly on the edge of the bed.

Jim didn’t want to push him. He wasn’t quite sure how Mac really felt about waking up with two men, especially if one was an Aug and the other was his commanding officer. The only thing he knew for sure was, that Mac had three ex-wives. At the same time Adam didn’t seem to be hung up about this at all.

Adam shifted against Jim’s shoulder and raised his head. “Has anyone seen my clothes? The only thing I can find is my coat.”

Jim and Mac snorted in unison, with Jim almost spitting coffee all over the bed after he got it up his nose. Mac grinned while Jim was still coughing. “I think those bachelorettes have them, so I wouldn’t count on getting them back.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Adam looked genuinely confused.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember?” Mac’s grin was getting even broader. “You took them off. Right before you climbed that pole?”

“I fucking what? Jim, is that…”

“Yeah. It’s true. But if it makes you feel any better, the crowd loved you.”

“Oh God…” Adam ran a hand over his face. “Now that you mention it…” He was silent for a moment, trying to piece the jumbled fragments of his memory together. “But… How did I… Just in my coat?”

“You are lucky that you never wear a jacket.”

Mac smirked. “Getting you past the nighttime checkpoints and patrols was fun. You tried to drag us into every dark corner along the way and went to your knees, and they just grinned and walked on by.”

“You mean they thought I was a hooker.” A pink flush of embarrassment crept up on Adam’s cheeks and Jim felt sorry for him now and a little ashamed of how much fun they had had at his expense.

Mac showed no mercy. “Well, it wasn’t really hard to mistake you for a wh…”

Jim smacked him on the back of the head before he could finish. Hard. He would _never_ have done that with the kids. But Mac was no child, he could just be worse than one at times. No wonder he had three ex-wives. And Jim was not married any more either, but right now it looked like he still had two children. This stupid exchange would not escalate into a fight and hurt feelings, not even an hour after waking up.

“Apologize.” It was a goddamned fucking order.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…” Mac trailed off and rubbed the back of his head. He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut. Normally he wasn’t very sensitive to pain or prone to self-pity and Jim had not hit him that hard, but he belatedly realized that Mac had hit his head on the stairs earlier.

Jim handed his and Mac’s cups of coffee over to Adam without a second thought and pulled Mac across his lap, face down. Mac was too surprised to protest and gave in. It was not exactly a gentle gesture, but extensive fussing and gentleness would only make him uncomfortable anyways. His back was taut, stiff like a plank, when Jim ran his fingers through his hair to inspect the damage. Mac winced a little when Jim found the lump on the back of his head. No blood in his hair, and likely his skull was in one piece.

“Sorry. I forgot you hit your head.” Jim kept scratching his head and neck where it did not hurt and suddenly Mac slumped down across Jim with a little grunt, some of the tension gone from his muscles. Better. And Jim could already guess who would want a head scratch next. Adam pressed himself against his shoulder again and watched, fascinated. Like he was watching a beast being tamed. It wouldn’t be a surprise at all if Mac started purring. Like any lion, just a big pussycat after all. Adam placed one of his elegant, black hands on Mac’s shoulder, as slowly and carefully as if he was touching a wild animal. When Mac didn’t flinch away at the slightly alien touch, he started to rub the skin of his back and shoulders and smoothed out the remaining tension in his muscles. No hard feelings there.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know you never asked for this.  
> But, you know, everyone is just trying to be nice!  
> *dodges first nanoblade*  
> Why do you always have to be so difficult?  
> *fails to dodge second nanoblade*
> 
> Yeah, RIP.


End file.
